


Trapped in the closet

by 0atMi1k



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, arthur pendragon whump, bbc merlin - Freeform, merlin whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25782658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0atMi1k/pseuds/0atMi1k
Summary: Merlin feels a little off, but when he finds out why, it's too late.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. Groggiest Tuesday in recent memory

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading my little fic. I'm writing a paper on why people enjoy whump, and I was wondering if anybody would be interested in answering a few questions on their experiences with it. The link is:
> 
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfLh5cHKbiNF5q_Zsw8yOu72mZZKj1HbmUB7mJvdMCXkIoEsA/viewform?usp=sf_link
> 
> I'll be posting my findings to Reddit and Tumblr. Thank you so much for your time! :)

Merlin didn't usually begrudge every single inconvenience quite in the way he did this morning. The way the bells in the tower rang cleanly out for their morning chorus through the crisp March air, the way the warm animal hide blankets irritated Merlin's skin, the way he could hear Gaius stretching and pottering about in the next room *already*. It was almost enough to make him gag, the way it attacked his senses all at once. He shifted a little, then ricocheted off the newfound corner of pillow where sunlight had tried to cave his eyes in, smashing through the window alongside the pungent, pugnacious aroma of freshly baked bread.

"Merlin!" came a dreaded voice, ten minutes after Merlin had resolved himself to dozing, unable to get up just yet. Sure enough, there came footsteps and a knock at his bedroom door. "Are you up yet?" The door creaked open, and Merlin wasn't ungrateful for the few thick magical volumes blocking the entrance to his room, so the crack which Gaius peered through was only a few inches wide. "Merlin! What are those doing lying about? My goodness. Merlin-" Gaius pushed the door, making the books slide under the bed, into the pit of general untidiness accumulating there- it was astounding how such a little room could become so messy with so few items to clutter it. "What are those doing lying about?" Merlin considered his answer, his head pounding as he sat up.

"Honestly, not much." Gaius gaped at him. Not only for his cheek, but the sheer chaos of his form, which was hard to discern from the scrawling bedsheets wrapping themselves tightly around the gangly manservant. His hair looked like it was swept in 45 different directions and his eyes were just slits as the daylight continued its siege on his senses.  
"And what if Uther were to come in here and see all this? You think he'd be happy to have a sorcerer spending day and night at his son's side?" Merlin smirked, and Gaius was too angry to not pretend he hadn't seen it.  
"You think the king would like to borrow Aedgard's magical remedies for a bit of bedtime reading?"  
"Well, they're a multitool. When you're finished reading them, they make an excellent barricade. And aren't you always telling me to be careful and lock my door and such?" In his fury, Gaius simply gaped like a fish. Merlin didn't truthfully feel up for this yet. "You're never happy."  
This shocked Gaius out of his gaping. "You're not leaving this room until it's all tidied up!"

It was Merlin's turn to gape. "I'll be late for work!"  
"And whose fault is that?!" Gaius bellowed, his tone slamming into Merlin's strangely fragile brain, causing the nightstand to shift to the left with a dull screech, which was negligible to Gaius' old hearing, and torture to Merlin. It was undeniable, Gaius had a point. "And anyway, I'm sure a young man of your talents can find it in him to spend 5 minutes tidying up. It's not the entire armoury, is it? Now hurry up, or your porridge will get cold."

Merlin grimaced at the thought of course, bland porridge, almost retching with the idea, as Gaius turned to leave, descending the steps. He rose, sluggishly, popping and clicking and groaning, his head pulsing, on the edge of breaking into pain. He stood to his highest, spinal chord clicking and shoulders rolling reluctantly. He was just wheezing a spell out, tilting his head from side to side, and as the books rose to put themselves away, and the bed began to make itself, black spots blossomed in front of his eyes, and the things dropped with a clatter, as he tried to keep his balance and sucked in air. The general clutter crashed to the floor, the sound like an axe in his tree trunk of a head on this disgustingly sunny morning. He jumped at the noise, then took his head in his hands and crumpled back down on the side of the bed, head ringing. He reached for the water jug by his bed, not even bothering to fetch a cup, just chugging the liquid, spilling it on his front before the burn in his head kicked in.

He couldn't remember drinking last night. He'd been out picking seasonal berries and herbs for Gaius. It was just outside the city wall, where the lilacs had bloomed early this year, and the strawberries and blueberries had ripened much too soon. Merlin saw them from the back window of Arthur's bedroom if he opened the window and looked directly down. He supposed it may have been from emptying Arthur's chamberpot near there for the past few years. He didn't really want to think about that, especially not this morning.

His balance regained, and the post-chug headache receding, he got up, manually put away his contraband, roughly neatened himself and the room respectively, then descended the stairs, to find Gaius frozen in a most extraordinary position. He stood beside a table, leering into a bubbling cauldron on his desk, but held one arm out, with a spoon on the end, totally stock still. There was a dollop of porridge on the floor, directly beneath Gaius' spoon, which was about 1 foot away from the opposite table, where his half finished bowl of porridge grew cold and clumpy. He looked like he would ask a toll of anyone trying to get past.

"Anything the matter?" Merlin came over to inspect the potion as well to see what all the excitement was, before instantly regretting it and gagging over its aroma of pickled toad droppings and caramelised belly button fluff. "To cure warts," Gaius explained, not looking up. "But it has to be done carefully. If you absolutely must take it off the heat at the right time, or it'll just create more warts." Merlin would've scoffed, if he was up to it, but unfortunately felt like shit warmed up and resloved to just get his breakfast. This would not be a problem, were it not for the dollop of porridge directly under Merlin's boot for a split second before he wasn't on his boots anymore, sprawled across the floor. "Quiet!" Gaius sniped, as Merlin took his time staring up at him with shock, before grumbling and attempting to get to his feet on his own, very much looking and feeling like the porridge he had just slipped in, his hands cold and sweaty where he had grabbed the table to hoist himself, head ringing a little.

"Aaah!" Gaius emitted, extinguishing the flame and dumping the little pot into a baisin of cold water. He swooped dynamically about fetching instruments and swearing under his breath as Merlin, failing miserably at even getting off the floor, wondered why he had so much limb to deal with and sucked in breaths to fight away the slight dizziness. "Pipette! Where's my pipette? Merlin, have you seen-" He paused, taking the first proper look at Merlin all morning. "What're you doing down there?" Merlin could't think of a retort for the life of him, so resolved to grumbling under his breath. Gaius wheeled around to plate up some porridge, finding his pipette next to the spoon he'd laid out for Merlin, as Merlin trembled to standing beside him. What was going on?

"Now you won't forget what you promised yesterday, will you, Merlin?" Gaius grinned to himself. Merlin couldn't remember anything from yesterday, his head pounded just trying to recollect it, feeling bombarded by the smell of porridge and the glare of early sunlight. "That little lesson we had planned?" Gaius reminded him, after almost a minute of confusion. "Aaaagh," He groaned, remembering the Tuesday night physician lessons he had to do, seeing as he couldn't attend daytime house calls and such like. This wasn't as fun as it sounded, staying up late and trawling through gruesome anatomy books with Gaius droning on until they'd both dozed off at least 3 times apiece.

For some reason, the memory of the diagrams in that book almost made him retch, and the idea of staying up late? He had more than half a mind to get back in bed already. "I did promise your mother I would give you the best education I could," he reminded Merlin, on observing the little grimace wrinkling his face. How pale he was this morning, Gaius now realised, with a complexion like half-churned cream. He decided it was enough with the theatrics, and they both had places to be. "Come on. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold." Merlin stared down at the little bowl of creamy sludge in his cold hands, appreciating the warmth at least. "Oh, and-" Gaius plopped a handful of the berries Merlin had picked, on top of the sorry-looking dollop. Merlin smiled gratefully, as Gaius clapped him on the back and turned around to deal with his anti-wart potion. Merlin spooned the berries off the top, leaving the porridge, and set off shortly afterwards to the kitchens.

-

Head still reeling from the intense smells and sounds of the kitchen, he knocked lighter than usual on Arthur's door, before turning the handle, and suddenly felt that warm rush of mischief alleviate all the aches of his body and mind, as he saw Arthur, hair flopping into tufts like a halo of untidiness. "Rise and shine!" he called, bumping into a table and knocking a loud pewter cup to the floor. Arthur hrrrnnnggggggged under the covers, his head snapping up at the cup's morning announcement.

"Oop, sorry." Merlin placed the tray on Arthur's table, stooping down for the cup, and suddenly being absolutely sure he'd never get up again, as he swung forward, slamming the bridge of his nose into the surprisingly sharp desk corner. He heard slow footsteps approach as he tried to regain is balance, head ringing, room spinning, nose running, his brain suddenly a hot swirl. "What are you doing down there?" Arthur asked, bemused by all the clattering, and the figure cringing on the floor.

"Just picking something up." He'd done his best to sound cheery whilst clutching his head in agony.

"Right." Arthur wasn't ready for his shenanigans yet, and just wanted to eat his breakfast. It was a grey day outside, the birds were nowhere to be seen, Arthur's horse had thrown a shoe the day before, so he couldn't go riding. He looked back at Merlin, who had almost gotten up off the floor, and was just about to pick up the pewter cup. Arthur swiped it from right beneath Merlin's hand, then handed it to him, using it as an excuse to help him up, patting him on the back gruffly. "You been spending time in the tavern again, have you? Had a bit more mead than you can handle?" It wouldn't be the first time, would it? How that man found the time to go to the tavern, Arthur never knew, but it did worry him slightly. Merlin was a slim man, a lightweight. He obviously didn't go to the tavern to drink and make a fool of himself, he did enough of that during his own time. What if he was going there to find other men? Arthur wouldn't claim to know Merlin very well, in fact, there were some times he felt he had never met the man at all, what with some of his moments of profound wisdom, but how was he supposed to know how friendly Merlin got with the patrons of the Rising Sun Inn? Arthur stood there, pretending not to be fuming, waiting for an answer.

"I don't... remember,, going tav- to a tavern... I was-"

Merlin was mumbling so quietly, Arthur was inches from his face and still not catching a word. "What?" Merlin's shoulder under his hand was cold to the bone, as his face paled and the nosebleed became more noticeable, which freaked the prince the fuck out. "Do you want to sit down?" Arthur grabbed for a chair, but the smell of him, unwashed and barely awake, as he brushed past him, made Merlin gag, before he buckled, and melted onto Arthur's outstretched arm, getting specs of blood on Arthur's shirt. Arthur just about caught him, not sure if he was awake or not, as his whole face was drawn in and pale, his eyes just slits, shielding him from the cold daylight.

"Merlin!" His head rolled against Arthur's shoulder as Arthur shook him, trying for a response. "Merlin?" Arthur placed a hand behind Merlin's neck, with one already wrapped around his back, so he could lean him back and look into his face. It was bad. Merlin was in some sort of daze, eyes darting, unfocused, legs slowly giving out. He was still mumbling away, as if unaware what was happening, still trying to explain himself. Arthur was horrified.

"Guards! Gaius! Somebody!" Merlin was sinking into him, melting into his warm chest, his eyes closing. Footsteps were coming, fast. "Help!" Arthur was desperate, clutching the light, pale figure to him, willing the warmth into his bones. "We're in here, he needs help, fetch Gaius-" Sir Leon bounded into the room. 

"Sire, you're not safe here. Someone's infiltrated the castle, we think it's Morgana-" He stopped at the sight of them. "What's happened to him?" The shock on Arthur's face registered. He was almost as pale as Merlin was. He swooshed up to them, hair and cape billowing behind him with the sudden urgency of his stride, but not quite fast enough, as Merlin let out a pitiful moan, keening into Arthur with all the swooshing and urgent tones he couldn't quite make out, and was it Leon making all that racket? He'd thought so much better of him, but all was forgiven as another warm pair of hands kept him from the ground. He was tilting backwards, downwards, the strong warm hands cradling him, rocking him like he was just a boy in protective arms once again.

They didn't have much time, and Merlin was in no fit state to ride, or pretty much do anything. The decision was made. "Are- Are you sure, sire?" Leon's ever loyal disposition inflated Arthur's anxiety. Why couldn't he just disagree like anyone else? It was so easy to be stubborn and sure when his father or Gaius told him not to do something. "They won't look in there. Come on, help me pick him up." Arthur leant forward into Merlin, keeping one hand behind his neck and the other on his back, and leant him into Leon, who stood behind Merlin. Leon took him, leaning his head into the crook of his shoulder, wrapping his arms about Merlin's chest, as Arthur got into position.

Leon looked down into the sickly white face, the black rings sinching his closed eyes into a rigor mortis-tight darkness, sweat beading on his uncomfortably warm forehead. His slender neck extended all the way back, totally exposed as his head fell back into the crook. His breathing was tired and laboured, his mouth a tight line, a barely visible furrow in his brow. Arthur took one arm, and lifted it around his neck, and Leon tilted Merlin forward just a little, so Arthur could hook his arm under Merlin's knees. With a great heave, Arthur hoisted Merlin's limp form up into a princess carry, his head dangling back, his adam's apple poking out.

"Get the door." Arthur instructed, hearing activity down the corridor through the still open door. Leon couldn't actually believe they were doing something so stupid, but, ever true to the Pendragon line, he did as he was told, and opened the wardrobe door, standing aside as Arthur carried Merlin over, looking more concerned than Leon had ever seen him before. It was heartwrenching. It was obvious what Arthur really felt for Merlin, despite the way he acted towards him. Leon saw the casual touches, the glances, the hidden smiles. He was rooting for them, and could've cried with frustration in the rare few moments he thought _maybe they'll do it, maybe this time, maybe they'll finally just let go and let themselves love_. They never did. And this? What was this? It looked like Merlin was seriously ill, and just starting a fever, and MORGANA IS HERE. Why did they have to wait until the worst fix they'd ever been in, every time they found themselves in one, to admit even a little feeling? It ate him up inside.

Arthur hurried to the armoire, and gently placed Merlin's limp body on a pile of clothes, miscellaneous hats and winter jumpers underneath the nicely hung up shirts, some of which he lay over Merlin, whose body was ice cold, but his head was hot and somehow, at least gave the impression of being, swarming, like hot angry wasps were buzzing around inside. It wasn't a comfortable fit, with Merlin bunched up inside, his knees drawn up, head drooping inwards. Arthur removed his arms from under the crumpled form, then delicately thumbed his cheek, picking up his head in his hands. "I will come back for you. Just hold on." He laid Merlin's soft head back into the corner of the armoire, oh so softly, and locked him inside. He turned to Leon, looking into Arthur's more-noticeably-blue-than-usual eyes for some sort of direction. "Let's go."


	2. Ditched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's ill, Arthur's speeding off, sir Leon is sick of their bs. Your usual Camelot Calamity.

Those footsteps were too damned close for Arthur's liking. He couldn't hear Merlin's breathing inside the closet, which reinforced his idea that simply locking his manservant in a cupboard was a good idea, and Leon was stood there, gawping at the situation, like the statue of a startled stoat. He found his voice. "Let's go."

"Which way?" Leon was right, there were 2 doors leading to and from Arthur's chambers, one of which led to the outside corridor, where he would be too easily spotted, and one down a clearly bustling hallway, with yells and clatters Arthur wanted nothing to do with. He turned to inspect the window, seemingly scaling it up, then peering down to the ground. "Sire?" Leon demanded, but Arthur continued to look down to the ground, then speculated the entire room, looking for anything to help them, as that clearly fake grin of recklessness spread across his face.

"We could get down significantly faster-" Arthur grunted, throwing on his sword and whatever armour he could find, "if our escape was aided by use of gravity." Leon Stammered as Arthur pointed to the bed. "Pick up that mattress. Put it on the table." Leon did what he was told, swooshing around, the panic still in his eyes, but his loyalty greater than his doubt. A pillow fell from the bunched up covers. "Watch out, we'll need that."

"What for, a slumber party?" Grunted Gwaine, falling through the door. His exhausted smile and the closeness of the yells was too much for anybody to handle at present. Leon placed the mattress down.

"Lock the door!" Arthur said as Gwaine hoisted himself to his feet. "Push that up to the window!" Arthur indicated the table, the mattress and pillows and soft finery flopped atop it. "Where are the others?" He was pulling on his boots now, and let himself a little glance at the wardrobe, which looked just as it usually did, but held so much more weight now.

"Percival and Elyan are gonna catch us up. We have to get out of the grounds. I said we'd ride West." West? Leon was glad to hear it. This was an East- facing window he was about to jump out of, right down into a stony courtyard. There was a West-facing window, which he rushed over to as Arthur enquired more, in a panic. Leon was relieved to find scrub and brush, outside the city walls entirely, despite the fact that it was a much further drop down. It would still be a much softer landing in the wild woodland vegetation than onto solid marble, no matter the distance. He retrieved the table, heaving it to the other side, as Arthur finished preparing himself and Gwaine took a swig of the wine Merlin had brought in for Arthur's breakfast, straight from the jug. At that, he shrugged, and threw all the food into a bag Arthur had thrown on the floor amid his scurrying and panic.

Some quiet shifting came from the armoire, and a barely audible moan, like someone turning over in bed during a nightmare. Gwaine wheeled around, nearly dropping everything as he went for his sword, but Arthur stayed him. "Merlin's sick. We put him in there." Leon nodded as Gwaine gaped at them both.

"That's Merlin in there? What were you thinking? I'll get him out, you get on there-" He was halfway across the room before Leon's hands were on his arms.

"He's too sick, we can't take him. We'd all get caught. He's well hidden here, right sire?" They looked over at Arthur, surprised to discover a hand over his mouth, his gaze off in the middle distance. He was the picture of controlled pain, domseticated angst.

"We don't have time for this." He looked back at them, then the armoire. "Come on, get up." They were all still for a moment, listening for Merlin to stir again. He didn't. The moment was broken by Arthur getting onto the mattress and opening the window. The others knew what this meant, getting up either side of him.

"Not that it makes a difference now, sire, but I do regret telling you," Leon debated with himself whether or not to continue.

"Not telling me what?" Arthur's concern was genuine.

"I'm afraid of heights." All three smirked.

"Well, today's your lucky day, Leon." Contributed Gwaine.

"Oh, and how's that?"

"Everybody's got to face their fear sometime. Lucky today's not that day. This is nothing. My grandmother's jumped down cliffs taller than this in her sleep."

"Lucky I'm not afraid of sleepwalking grandmothers, then."

They jumped.


	3. Down and out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The knights try to work out their next move whilst Merlin finds himself in a sticky situation.

The three red and silver shapes cascaded down, roaring in fear as they approached the ground, clinging on to the thick mattress, pillows flying in every direction. The three looked to each other, finding only screams in each other's eyes, distorting their faces. Leon's curls stood straight up in the rush of wind, all of his features pushed upwards by the terror and speed of their descent. Gwaine looked like a spaniel standing over an air duct, hair whapping him in the face as his eyes stretched wide, as if to accommodate all the shock pulsing from his quaking soul. Arthur, however, had a harsh grin cleaving his face in two, his bravado bullying his terror into submission, a brash laugh escaping him at the sight of the knights. It wasn't out of joy, nor humour, nor courage, but simply his determination not to break. He would not give in, he would not fear, nor despair. Nothing could stop a Pendragon.

~THUD~

The three buried themselves into the mattress just in time before the ground kicked their asses. The mattress bounced back up again, before they slammed back down, the sound of three sentient sacks of bones making impact, splitting the forest air. They all lay still for what felt like hours. The first thing Arthur registered when his senses came back to him was the pain thudding through his forehead, right elbow and right knee. As it intensified, he groaned loudly for a few minutes, before he heard someone groaning next to him, and held onto what felt like their arm for support. This, apparently, was the wrong thing to do, as they hissed, so he searched for their hand instead, finding it somewhere unexpected. At this, he unburied his head from the soft mattress, looking to his right. The sun smacked him full force in the face, but eventually he found Leon's curls shifting about frantically as he writhed in pain, his groans and whines more noticeable now. There was blood staining some of his flaxen locks pink, soiling the mattress. Looking closer, Arthur could see Leon's shoulder sticking out at a strange angle, out of place inside his armour. Arthur tried to get to his knees so he could roll Leon over and take a look at his face, but his entire left side reminded him that it wasn't an option right now, with a great surge of pain which made his head spin. He laid down again.

"You- You two okay there?" Wheezed a fake-cheery voice, clearly pretending it wasn't in pain. Gwaine tapped Arthur's left shoulder, who wasn't ready to respond for a moment, as he'd just found a comfortable resting spot on his left side, where he could keep an eye on Leon from, shushing him quietly now and then. "Arthur? Arthur, are you alright?" The hand shook him back and forth a few times, rubbing his back a little. Gwaine wasn't usually one to panic, but something about neither of his teammates being able to move, and Morgana's most recent attempt to overthrow the current Camelot royalty, which included one of the casualties beside him, didn't sit right with Gwaine for some reason. Bloody royals, never happy, were they? Arthur's breath had become deep and gasping, as if it took him several attempts before he was able to say "Gw-Gwaine?"

Gwaine panted for a bit before responding "Yeah." A few seconds passed, Arthur might've fallen back asleep. So he did what he knew how to do, and shook Arthur to within an inch of his life. "Arthur? Arthur, what is it?" Gwaine's eyes darted about the clearing as he waited for a response.  
"Gwaine- Gwaine, I-" Arthur stopped to catch his breath. "I ca- can't get up-p." Gwaine rolled his eyes. They didn't have time for this.  
"C'mon princess. You just need a little dusting off, is all." Gwaine got up onto his knees, then got one leg shakily under him, and then the other, stretching up to his full height. He smiled at himself. Look at me, up and about before Arthur. He dusted himself off, picking a few feathers out of his chain-mail and brushing soil from his left sleeve and trouser, before stooping down to pick Arthur up. He tried to ignore the head-spin as he crouched a little, seizing Arthur's back just under the armpits and hauling him halfway up, to Arthur's protestations and gasps, allowing him to get his legs under him before helping him straighten up somewhat, noticing the angry bruise flourishing just above his brow. By the time they were both standing, they were breathing very deeply, trying to make the world stand still and banish the dark spots swimming into their fields of vision. Gwaine was the first to spot the large tree trunk a few feet away, perfect for sitting on. It even had an excellent view of Arthur's bedroom window. They zig-zagged vaguely over to it, landing heavily on the stump just by Leon's head. As they caught their breath, Gwaine got his first look at Leon, who'd stopped moving, face down on the mattress.

His breathing was shallow, and he might've been asleep, were he not so clearly grimacing into the soft finery, burying his face into it. "Blimey. Leon!" Gwaine patted Leon's back from where he sat, prompting a convulsion and a gasp from Leon as if he'd been electrocuted. Arthur and Gwaine looked at each other, before Leon let out one long, high pitched sob. Gwaine tried to lower himself a little, inching nearer Leon. "C'mon. Just breathe." Leon finally gasped for air, holding it all in tensely for a few moments, before sighing shakily, and repeated this a few times as Gwaine encouraged him, lightly rubbing circles on his back. Gradually, his breathing evened out, and he let out a few small, hacking sobs, pulling himself back together before he turned on his side to face the two. He stared through his very red, puffy eyes, up at the two. Arthur looked determined, searching about the clearing for signs of danger, and Gwaine looked concerned, but pleased that Leon had at least stopped crying.

"There now." Gwaine sighed. "Come on, let's take a look at that shoulder. Sit up." He knelt beside Leon, unbuckling the armour around Leon's shoulder as he rose slowly to a sitting position. "Yeesh. Looks like you've dislocated your shoulder. I've done it a few times myself. You ever had one before?" Leon nodded. Gwaine smiled grimly. "You'll know what comes next, then. Here." He picked up a thick twig, brushing some soil off it. "Bite down on this." Leon's confusion didn't have long to register before the twig was in his mouth and Gwaine's hands were on his shoulder. He tried to look him in the eye. "C'mon, face forward. Wouldn't want to rip your arm off, now would we?" No sooner was his dazed head being turned forward than he heard a deep, fleshy click and his side just about exploded. He made no noise as he slammed back down, his eyes screwed shut, breaking the twig into splinters as he flopped like a fish out of water. "You're alright Leon, you're just fine." Gwaine cooed, slightly losing his will to live. Arthur, who'd had time to stretch his limbs and walk about the perimeter of the clearing, finally came over and kneeled, resting Leon's head on his lap. He removed the main broken twig halves from Leon's mouth as the knight stilled once more. He ran a reassuring hand over Leon's head, before looking up at Gwaine.

"We can't stay here. It's only a matter of time before they come and find us." Leon grunted, still listening even when he was in worlds of pain. "Leon?" They both stared down into his pale face. He said nothing, still unable to talk just yet, so Arthur continued. "I know it's not ideal, but we're going to have to get you up and get out of here." Leon shifted, eyes still shut, before sighing and sitting up again, as the two moved forward to help him sit. "Not ideal?" He chuckled weakly. "My liege, if we don't get going we'll surely die." Leon cast about for his armour and chainmail, disturbing some of the droplets of blood in his hair into falling onto the mattress. Arthur looked at Gwaine, who shrugged. "Which way are we going sire? Ouch!" Leon could barely lift his arm to put his armour on.

"C'mere." Gwaine intervened, rolling up the chainmail like one big sock and pulling it down over Leon's head. Arthur got Leon's left arm through easy enough, but it took a long time for all 3 to ease the right through its sleeve, prompting winces from everyone in the process. There was a great sense of accomplishment when finally the entire armour was on, and Leon's arm was in a makeshift sling. They all paused, standing in the clearing, pleased as punch with each other before Arthur realised Leon had asked him a question, and was promptly kicked in the teeth by the ominous fear of the overhaul taking place. "We'll carry on this way." Arthur pointed out into a small path in the forest. "Have we got everything?" The three looked about them. There wasn't much to take, really. They couldn't haul the mattress, not without horses, which would've been helpful right about now. Gwaine looked down at the satchel, forgotten about his side, and it opened with a squelch to reveal what had been the fruit Merlin had taken into Arthur's chamber maybe 20 minutes ago. "What was that?" Leon murmured, as Gwaine poured the sludge out onto the ground with a grimace. "Breakfast, apparently." All three wheezed with laughter, setting off down the path.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, battle was raging on inside the castle. Merlin stirred, able to smell the sweat and the blood and hear the hearts pumping, every breath, every squeak of boot on floor, and what he could only describe as a filthy hum. It consisted of quietly crazed, whispered yelling, like an incantation someone had said millions of times, but this time they meant it, so much so that it had lapped the circle of time hundreds of times, like a multi-stranded skein of words laid out in its flat band, with the ends tied together, the voices felting into one matted, itchy chord. Literally what the fuck was going on out there?

His felt like what rocks must've felt like when they'd been fully eroded into wet sand. An entire being reduced to sludge by years of blunt force. He was either very hot or very cold, he couldn't tell, and being strangled by hanging linen in a claustrophobic, dark little cubby hole filled with moth balls, apparently. He tried moving, then cursed himself for it thoroughly for several minutes, before not learning from his mistake at all and doing exactly the same thing and vomiting all over clothes it was his job to clean. He cursed Gaius for getting him out of bed, and for making him anything at all. The thought of food made him retch again, harder, slamming his head into the mahogany behind him, but nothing came out. As his entire body contracted and shook, his throat becoming a portal to hell, his mind wondered off into 'how did I get here' territory. He didn't get very far, however, before a convulsion sent him careening out of the armoire, sprawling right at the feet of Morgana. The force of the light, the convulsion and the sheer shock knocked him out cold, but not before he could smirk right up at Morgana's bewildered face. It was finally his turn to make an entrance more dramatic than hers.


	4. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's revelation after revelation for Morgana and Merlin, but the knights make a discovery of their own.

It'd been an exciting few weeks for Morgana, plotting her coup, observing her people. Well, it'd been boring, actually, but she was drunk with hindsight, giving her a giddy fondness for the time she'd spent observing Arthur in his chambers through the back window by the clearing, discovering the general routine of the servants and the guards and Arthur himself, of course. Weeks of levitating a mirror up to see what was going on in there, trying to duck out of the way when Merlin emptied Arthur's chamber pot into the bushes, it wasn't exactly glamorous, but now everything was taking off, it had all been worth it. She didn't see why Morgause couldn't have taken some of the watch, but she was the brains of the operation and had always had a pretty water-tight excuse not to go. But now, now it didn't matter in the slightest. She'd spent the morning storming the castle in the sexiest dress she owned. Literally, she'd been looking at that dress hanging up in her armoire whenever she felt low or overworked recently, imagining herself swooshing through the castle silently and seductively, killing guards with just a flick of her hand, or maybe with that gorgeous dagger Arthur got her for her birthday a few years ago. No, she'd decided, she didn't want to get blood on her gown. 

She started at the very gates of the city, making her way up through the lower town, flanked by a thousand men, who were like flowers girls as she strutted up the aisle to wed herself to Camelot. The screams of the people almost completely drowned out the clip-clop of her high heels as the men broke off into groups, coming at the townspeople with nothing behind their eyes. They were well trained. But she was determined to get to Arthur's chambers, having deliberately started the attack just after dawn so he didn't even have the chance to pull his trousers on before she was standing over him ready to strike. She used her magic to kill any unruly townspeople and set their shops and houses on fire as she strode forth, leading the empty men. They were Cenred's men, the very strongest who'd survived after her previous attempts to overthrow the Pendragons, and they knew no fear. Their step in time with her own, she felt the cobbles quake beneath her as she approached the castle, headed for a corridor she hadn't seen in years.

It was much quieter indoors, where she had only a handful of men follow her inside. Here, her heels clopped satisfyingly in the mainly empty stairwells and corridors. Well, it wasn't that they were empty, but the servants and guards who appeared, were easily dealt with and didn't put up too much of a fight. Poor darlings, they barely even knew what hit them. Morgana's fantasy was playing out just as she'd imagined it, it was hard to believe it was really happening. She was just wondering where Arthur's loyal little puppies of the round playpen were cowering when Elyan, Percival, Lancelot, Gwaine, and a few other dipshits appeared, seemingly in the mood to get their asses kicked. She smirked to herself. "Boys." It wasn't clear if she was greeting the knights or addressing her killing machines. "bet you thought you'd never see me again. Did you miss me?" She asked, stepping aside and letting her men advance towards them.

Elyan spat on the ground at her feet, a little speckling her black lace-up leather stilettos. "We were hoping you'd come back one day." Gwaine said, staring her in the eye as they all stood tensely, gripping their sword hilts, ready to draw. "We wanted you to know what happens to people who threaten Camelot. I, personally, am thrilled you get to see what happens when you come for the people who Arthur cares about. You know, like his people."  
"Their sisters." Added Elyan.  
"Their friends." Added percival.  
"Their mothers and fathers." Added Lancelot.  
"Their King." Finished Gwaine.  
"I totally agree." Morgana's voice was drippng with, was it, vengeance, irony? Nobody could tell, there was such emotion behind it, almost fully concealed. Almost. "I hope you'll come around and see that I'll be the one you'll be protecting soon enough. But, in the meantime, sick em boys."

The soulless seven who'd been standing a little too still suddenly advanced, swords swinging, shouts echoing, as if they'd just been turned back on. The knights jumped into action. The few Morgana didn't recognise were the first to go, succumbing quickly to her agents' power and fury, but the others were taking far too long. She didn't even notice Gwaine sneak away 2 minutes in. Even though Morgause had taught Morgana much about patience, she wasn't here to enforce it now, and Morgana didn't want to stick around. She had a meeting to go to, and she'd planned it months in advance, so she really couldn't miss it. She trotted up the corridor to the great wooden door, took a moment to compose herself, then glided in, her silk dress rippling as she waltzed in to discover nothing but a mess.

WHAT?! Where had Arthur gone? he should've been right here! Every morning, at this time, he would be having breakfast in bed, and Merlin would be there getting ready to dress him. It was like clockwork, Merlin always a little late, Arthur groggily throwing things at him. She looked around. There were clothes strewn about the floor, and the mattress was missing from the bed. She'd just noticed the table by the window when she heard shuffling inside the closet, along with the most awful, guttural splutters she didn't even want to know about. It wasn't like there was an easy escape route for Arthur, so maybe he'd hidden in an armoire, but it didn't sound like his vocal register, the retching. She was just about to open the doors with her magic, standing well back, ready to strike, when a huge lump of cheese curd with blue eyes wearing a tan jacket fell out, or more launched out before flopping to the ground at her feet, leaving a trail of clothes across the floor where a chemise had somehow attached itself to Merlin's ankle. Was that a smirk he'd managed to do, before passing out completely?

This really wasn't something she'd planned for at all. He was white as a sheet, covered in his own sick, shivering on the ground, and it was totally killing her vibe. She kicked him hard in the side, soliciting no more than a grunt. If only Arthur could see her standing above his little pet, completely at her mercy. She sniggered. Arthur wasn't truly fond of anyone quite in the same way as he was for his knights, and Merlin was sort of included in that mixture of people. She stooped low, entwining her fingers in his hair and yanking his head up from the floor, a sudden idea striking her: Arthur clearly wasn't here, but he never went anywhere without Merlin unless he absolutely had to. She wasn't going to find Arthur in the castle, and her handful of henchmen were busy sorting out Camelot's most loyal boys in red, so they'd be a bit pre-occupied to go out hunting for a man who probably didn't even have a horse to ride on. Merlin was well known as Arthur's manservant, Morgana supposed. Even she if she couldn't make an example of him in front of the whole town, at least she could make an example of someone. It was only a shame Arthur wouldn't be there to see it. She let Merlin's head return to the cold floor with a smack.

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Percival, Elyan and Lancelot finally managed, after what felt like hours of fighting, to subdue the incredible fighters, some of them for good. They made a quick getaway, sneaking through entrances and exits most people would never guess were there. Lancelot only happened to know about them through hearsay, due to some of Merlin's secret exploits. He'd heard of where Kilgarrah used to live, and of tunnels which led from one side of Camelot to the other, and tunnels not used since the Great Purge. He was honestly quite impressed that he'd remembered all of Merlin's instructions. By the time the party had escaped, it was midday. They were on the western side of the north quarter of Camelot, without horses, without supplies, running into the forest without a plan. Elyan had a cut on his upper arm, which was bleeding pretty badly, and stars were still swimming in Percival's eyes from the only soldier he'd ever seen who was bigger than him, who'd picked him up and thrown him like a rag doll at the wall. This was a novel experience for Percival which he had no intention to repeat.

They rushed through the forest, not quite sure of their bearings yet, with the intention to come around and find a way around to the castle again, before something tripped Lancelot up, and he slammed face first, eating the dead leaves. He looked up to see Arthur, Leon and Gwaine, fingers to their lips.


End file.
